Am I the only friend that makes you cry?
by Disasterkid
Summary: Frerard one shots- ratings vary
1. Chapter 1

It was a shitty apartment. And that was putting it kindly.

There were paint chips all over the floor, hardly any furniture and the windows looked right into the porn shop next door. Not that Frank minded. But besides all the physical imperfections, there was the matter of his new roommate.

His name was Gerard, a too-tall (at least for Frank's liking), too skinny, too pale artist trying to break into the comic book scene. The artist thing wasn't so bad, but Frank had to put up with stepping on colored pencils whenever he entered Gerard's and clothes covered the floor to the point where Frank couldn't remember the color of the floor. Gerard wasn't exactly a very social person, so he rarely spoke to Frank and Frank never saw Gerard except for in the mornings when he would grab coffee from the kitchen, only barely muttering a "Morning" to Frank before shuffling off to draw Spiderman for the umpteenth time. He barely ever changed his clothes. Or washed himself. Frank had pleaded with him to take a goddamn shower because he was wasting his paycheck on air fresheners. Gerard stunk **that** bad.

Another thing Frank didn't like about Gerard was his sense of hearing. When Gerard would be drawing in his cave of a bedroom, he preferred everything to be quiet. Which meant Frank wasn't allowed to play any music as long as Gerard was home. And Gerard never left the fucking house. So Frank had to be content with listening to his mp3 player on the porch outside, which overlooked the central area of the city. It was beautiful. It was one of the reasons Frank had moved out here.

When he wasn't on the porch, Frank worked at the Starbucks on the corner of 5th and 6th. He'd been working there ever since he moved into the city. Frank liked working there. It was just down the street from his apartment and he got free coffee. The only thing he had to put up with was the stench. Frank loved coffee, but the smell of coffee beans disgusted him. He'd rather hold a spider. Well, maybe not that but something he hated equally as much.

It was a slow day at work, thank god. The store was short staffed and Frank didn't think he could handle being mobbed by university students wanting their lattes. So Frank was just sitting at the counter, alone, waiting for something, _anything_ to happen.

Sadly, all Frank saw was a couple of pigeons near the sewer grate and an elderly woman with a purse the size of a mule. Frank considered closing up early, but he knew the evening rush was bound to start soon. It was about 5 o clock when Frank's watch stopped working, so it was probably 7ish now.

But the evening rush never came, so Frank had to settle with pretending that the zombie apocalypse was beginning, and he had to barricade the countertop with spare cups (how this would stop zombies, he wasn't sure).Frank had made a wall of cups almost as tall as he was before the little bell tied to the door rang, and Frank had a customer.

Frank cleared his throat before peering around the wall. "Good evening, how may-Gerard? What are you doing here?" Frank raised an eyebrow. Gerard never drank store brand coffee. It was his way of "fighting the system."

Gerard just stood there, pretending to stare at the menu, but Frank already knew what he was going to order. A grande coffee, black. It's what he drank every morning.

"Could I have a grande coffee please? Black." 'Check one for Frank' Frank thought as he nodded and shuffled to the back room to grab more coffee cups, seeing as they were out.

When Frank came back, Gerard had seated himself at the table by the window, flipping through his sketchbook. It bothered Frank that Gerard drew nothing but Spiderman. Frank wished Gerard would draw something from his imagination for once. Sighing quietly, Frank pushed the button on the coffee machine, listening to the humming of it's gears. Frank noticed Gerard had slipped a crumpled five dollar bill on the counter while he was in the back room. Frank opened the register.

"So, what's new Gerard?" Frank figured now was a good time to actually get to know Gerard after living with him for 3 months. He never came out of that goddamn cave long enough for a conversation.

Gerard looked up from his sketchpad briefly. "Not much, drawing fucking Spiderman again." Gerard grunted unhappily.

"You don't like drawing Spiderman?"

"I fucking hate it. He's a shitty superhero." Gerard licked the corner of his finger before flipping the page.

Frank put a lid on the drink. "So why do you?" He made his way over to Gerard before sitting in the chair opposite him and sliding him his coffee.

Gerard made a face. "Drawing him for Marvel was the only comic artist position available there. And you know what else sucks?" Gerard looked up from his sketchpad to Frank, who was listening intently. Frank nodded.

"I might not even get the job! In order for me to get the job, I have to be able to draw him perfectly in every possible situation he could be in. So far Marvel hasn't liked any of my drawings." Gerard rested his face on his hand, sighing. "So I guess my drawing suck and I'll never get a job, huh?" Gerard sipped his coffee uninterestedly, staring at the table.

Frank sat up straighter. "Gerard, your drawings don't suck. They're fantastic." Gerard was looking at Frank now. "The only thing that sucks is that the company doesn't see that. You have talent and you shouldn't waste it drawing fucking Spiderman." Frank made a face before slumping back into the grey cushioned chair.

Gerard sipped his coffee quickly. "You know, you're right Frank. I should do my own thing!" He picked up his sketchpad and his coffee before getting up.

"Wait, where are you going?" Frank was pissed that he was gonna be bored again.

Gerard opened the door for himself. "I'm gonna go give up the Spiderman position!" Gerard grinned, happy he never had to draw Spiderman again and left.

Frank watched him leave with a smirk on his face. Gerard was sorta weird, ya know?

But good weird. Frank liked him.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank was pissed Gerard hadn't said something to him earlier.

"Gerard.." Frank started as he cleared a path of Gerard's old belongings to get to the kitchen. "..I think we might have to see a professional about cleaning this up."

Gerard was sitting on the tiled floor of his kitchen, clutching a porcelain ladle given to his mother by his aunt. He held it to his chest.

"Are you crazy? I can't part with these! These are my treasures!" Gerard sat rocking himself back and forth, pissed that Frank was touching his treasures.

"Gerard, I think you have a problem." Frank said the words so casually Gerard didn't understand them at first. He'd been ignoring Frank saying things like that for months, ever since Frank had moved in. Frank hated the clutter, but Gerard loved it. It made his house feel cozy. Frank thought it was just messy.

Gerard's favorite things were in his room, which was where Frank was heading to next. Gerard carefully placed the ladle on the makeshift table (made of Chinese food boxes and cardboard) before leaping over the mountain of things he'd been dodging for years. He knew his home like the back of his hand. He liked it that way, comfortable, usual. Why did Frank want to change that?

He almost pushed Frank away from the door to his room before locking himself in it. Frank pounded at the door, demanding entry. Gerard refused.

Frank sighed and leant against the door. "Gerard…"

"NO!" Gerard threw something at the door, causing Frank to step backwards.

"Gerard, you promised me you would try and compromise with me. Maybe we could just get rid of the stuff you don't need?"

"…But I need _all_ of it!" Gerard whimpered.

"Gerard, I'm pretty sure you don't need rotting food."

"But what if I want to make something out of them one day?" Gerard was stalling.

"They're a health code violation, if you don't get rid of them the city will! And then they'll make you leave." Frank was starting to scare Gerard.

Gerard tried to persuade Frank. "Ok how'bout this…if you promise not to tell the city, I'll try and clean up some things, okay?" Frank was getting annoyed.

"How long exactly have been hoard-"

"COLLECTING?"

Frank rolled his eyes. "Yes, collecting."

Gerard paused. How long had it been? One, two years tops he thought.

"I dunno, last year maybe?"

"I'm surprised you don't have the bubonic plague yet from all the rotting food in your kitchen. You're gonna get sick Gerard."

"No! My treasures wouldn't do that to me! They love me!"

"They're inanimate objects Gerard! They don't know what they're doing!" Frank almost yelled. He hadn't meant to, but he'd been arguing with Gerard all fucking day. He was pissed.

Gerard was quiet for a minute. He thought carefully about what he was going to say next, before deciding on his answer.

"No."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"NO FRANK, THEY'RE NOT INANIMATE! THEY'RE LIVING THINGS! THEY KNOW ME! THEY UNDERSTAND ME FRANK." Gerard began whimpering, before crying quietly, making sure Frank couldn't hear him.

Frank didn't have it in him to keep arguing with him. Gerard was sick in the head. What was Frank supposed to do? Call a psychiatrist? Gerard would find out and tell Mikey, who would make a big deal about how Frank thought Gerard was crazy and say 'how could you say you love someone but think they're crazy' and bull like that. Frank didn't think Gerard was crazy at all. He just thought that since his brother moved out, Gerard had needed someone-or thing-to keep him company. So he chose objects. Cause they wouldn't leave him like Mikey did. And they especially wouldn't yell at him like Mikey did.

It got silent long enough for Gerard to let out a sob. He tried to force himself to swallow it, but he failed in the end and silenced himself with a pillow. But Frank already heard him.

"Gerard? Gerard I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell! Could I please come in? I'm sorry, honey." Frank hated to see Gerard upset. And he'd been upset for awhile after Mikey left.

Gerard just continued to sob into the pillow, his thin body shaking. He slid down the back of the door, reaching the clothing covered floor. Frank tried to open the door, repeating himself over and over again, 'Gerard I'm sorry, I'm sorry Gerard..'

Gerard finished crying after a few minutes, but they seemed like hours to Frank, whose hands were still fixed around the knob, trying to wedge it open. Gerard caved and stood up, unlocking the door and sitting down next to Frank in the hallway. He wiped his eyes on the hem of his shirt.

"Gerard I'm sorry I said such mean things. I think I'm starting to even like your h-collecting. You don't have to throw anything out, okay?" Frank sat stroking Gerard's hair. Gerard was looking somewhere else. He wasn't focused on Frank. They sat silently like that for awhile before somebody spoke. It was Gerard.

"Let's call someone." His voice shook.

Frank couldn't believe it. "But I thought you liked you're treasures?"

Gerard looked at Frank's shirt. "But I like you more. And if you think something needs to be done about this, than I think-let's do it." He kept his voice monotone, trying his best to not sound weak.

"But honey, all I want is for you to not get sick. You don't have to call a professional. I can just call Ray or something and we'll help get rid of the bad stuff, alright?" Gerard nodded slowly. It would take some time before Gerard would be able to get over his hoarding addiction, but it would take less time if Frank was there to help him.

Gerard looked Frank in the eyes for a split second before locking him in a hug. Frank, surprised, sat there for a second before returning the hug, resting his head on Gerard's chest. He was going to help Gerard through this. He'd get better. Frank would make sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

This wasn't natural. It shouldn't have been happening. Yet, there Gerard stood, lips pressed against the man he'd found passed out drunk at his brother's graduation party. He knew it was wrong, god his entire mind was in protest with it. But something made it feel right.

To say Gerard was homophobic was an understatement. He didn't even like it when somebody mentioned the word "gay", no matter the context. It irked him. Bothered him. But regardless of Gerard's beliefs, here he was, inside a stranger's car, with his lips pressed against the other man's. Lord he didn't even know this guy's name! Fred was it? Gerard didn't remember. He had asked the man earlier when he noticed him passed out on the back porch and had asked him if he needed a ride home. The man had nodded sleepily before fishing his keys form his pockets and handing them to Gerard. But that was over a half hour ago.

It had taken that long just to figure out a way to get the man to move. He was a little too heavy for the puny Gerard to pick up, and pulling along the ground like an old rag doll wasn't really an option either, so he had to find Mikey to grab the man's shoulders and wrap his arms around their necks and sort of help him walk to his car. Once they got him in the car he began protesting loudly, demanding to be brought back inside because apparently he had left his car keys there.

Was it wrong for Gerard to be taking advantage of this man who could barely remember where he was? Yes. Did the other man seem to mind? No. At least not right now. He might be having second thoughts once he sobered up though. And he seemed to be having a blast, somehow still being able to properly kiss even though he could barely walk.

Gerard pulled away as soon as the man started to feel him up. Now Gerard was starting to feel guilty. He shouldn't be kissing this guy! He was drunk and Gerard was taking advantage of him. Not to mention, he was a man! It was so wrong! But for whatever reason, Gerard didn't care.

Gerard started up the car, thanking god that nobody had been in the front yard to see Gerard kissing the other man. Realizing he didn't know where the man lived, he started to ask him, but stopped when he saw he had fallen asleep. Sighing, he reached for the man's coat pocket to find a driver's license and an address. Gerard knew the street fairly well, and it wasn't too long of a drive. He started up the engine.

It had taken Gerard much longer to drive there than he had expected. He was exhausted by the time he walked the man to the door and fished out his house keys, which were on the key ring with the car keys.

The house was alright. Nothing special. At least 4 rooms from what Gerard could see, a fairly sized dining and living area and a television. Gerard decided to lay the man on the couch. Practically carrying him since he was fast asleep, Gerard failed at gracefully setting him on the couch and bumped the man's head on the armrest. The man didn't seem to notice, and Gerard left after locking the man's door.

7 A.M was far too early to be woken up. And much too early to have a phone call. Especially after the long party the night before. Gerard picked his cell phone and answered lazily.

"Did you drive me home last night?" A fairly familiar voice asked him. He couldn't place the name or face though.

"I dunno, who is this?"

"This is Frank." Right, that was the guy he'd driven home last night.

"Yeah, yeah. Why?"

"You locked me in my house, asshole." What? Gerard thought for a second. That was right, he'd taken Frank's keys by accident after he dropped him off.

"Shit...sorry. I'll come over later."

"No. I need to be at work in twenty minutes. You need to get here now." It wasn't hard to tell this guy had a wicked hangover. Who the hell partied and drank on a work night? Gerard sighed; he never left the house this early. He said he'd be over and hung up. He got up to pull a hoodie over his head and left the house in his pajama pants and socks. Nobody else would be up at this hour anyways.

Arriving at Frank's house a few minutes later, he received a rude greeting from Frank saying that it was Gerard's fault he was late for work. Gerard would've retaliated but it was too early to argue. He pulled out of Frank's driveway and left for home.

Gerard didn't have work that day, so he was able to just hang around for a bit. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee and surveyed the damages to the house. Nothing too terrible, he's have to clean up later though. He was sure Mikey was still asleep in his room so he treaded up the stairs lightly, being careful to avoid the beer cans that littered the steps.

Suprisingly, Mikey was awake. He sat in his room flipping through an old issue of Batman when Gerard poked his head in. Gerard greeted Mikey and Mikey smiled back at him. Gerard entered Mikey's room and sat down on the end of Mikey's bed to finish his cereal. He offered Mikey to coffee which he gladly accepted, and tried to remember the majority of last night.

"So yesterday was pretty fun." Gerard said. Mikey nodded in agreement.

"I drank so much…" Mikey said clutching his head with the hand he wasn't using to flip the pages.

"Yeah I noticed," Gerard joked. "I think I remember you asleep on the staircase when I got back." They both laughed.

"So how did it go taking home Frank?"

"Fine, I locked him in his house by accident and had to go give him his keys this morning."

"Ah, so that's who was leaving the house earlier. I thought someone had slept over by accident or something."

Gerard nodded, finishing his cereal and walking back to his room to sleep for a while longer.

11 pm was also not a great time to call someone. Gerard had just laid down to go to sleep when his phone rang. He answered.

"Uh hi, Gerard? It's Frank." Great, Gerard had to deal with this asshole again.

"Listen, I know I was kind of a jerk to you this morning and I should thank you for driving me home so..maybe do you want to go to breakfast?" Frank asked. It was almost midnight, where would they find an open place to eat? Gerard asked Frank.

"Well there's a diner on the corner of my street we could go to if you want, if you're hungry."

Gerard sighed and halfheartedly agreed to his ridiculously early outing with Frank.

"Cool, meet me there in a few."

Gerard made a noise that meant 'okay' before putting the phone on the side table.

"Oh wait, Gerard!" Frank called, still on the phone. Gerard picked the phone back up.

"Yes?"

"You gotta show me where you learned to kiss like that." Frank hung up.


	4. Chapter 4

Gerard had hated this place since the he pulled up. Actually, he'd hated it since his mother told him he and his baby brother had to spend the day here because they offered a great music program.

What his mother **didn't** tell him was that the place was a piece of shit. It was called "Camp Ottawa" but he didn't see any cabins, or activity areas, or even benches. Just a squat brown building with a wooden statue of a Native American man smoking a cigar. The bus (which Gerard had the pleasure of not having to ride on and followed with his car) pulled into the parking lot and a heaping twelve kids got out, all toting instruments. Gerard knew he wasn't going to enjoy this. He was too old for this. He was in his fourth year of high school. Mikey was a sophomore, practically a baby compared to him. That must have been why he was so excited to come here. It looked like a friggin' daycare. It might have actually been one because he hadn't seen a kid over nine come off the bus besides Mikey. Gerard parked his car near the building.

As the bus doors closed, a short plump woman emerged from the building. Her hair was in curlers and her pink sweater had holes in it where cigarettes had previously been put out. She smiled a bored smile, and opened the door to let the children in. As Gerard approached the door however, she walked inside, closing the door. Asshole. He figured she was the teacher and if that was the case, today was going to suck. He huffed and walked inside.

The building was surprisingly bigger on the inside than the outside, and there were more kids in the single room building, clutching guitars or seated behind drum sets that looked too big for them. The room was painted blue and had posters of dolphins and the alphabet on its walls. This was totally a fucking daycare.

Small blue chairs were arranged in neat rows in the center of the room, and most of the children had taken a seat. Gerard sat next to Mikey in the back of the room, opening his guitar case and sliding it under his chair. The plump woman stood in the front of the room, trying to get the classes attention. Once she had it, she began speaking.

"Welcome to beginners guitar and drums. This class is from twelve to two. It should cover the basics of your instuments." She spoke like she'd said this line a hundred times over and had a smoker's voice. But Gerard was pissed! How the hell was he supposed to spend two whole hours in a daycare? He'd rather chew off his own arm.

The woman left the room which Gerard guessed was her going to grab her instruments. But Gerard saw a puff of smoke come in from the window, and realized she was having a smoke. But if she wasn't teaching the class, who was?

From the area where the woman was seated outside the door, Gerard could make out another figure through the stained windows. It appeared to be male and holding a guitar case. So _he_ was the teacher.

It was another ten minutes or so before the man came inside. Gerard had started doodling on his hand with a pen he found and wasn't paying attention. He heard the smack of the guitar case on the floor and the man clearing his throat, so he shoved the pen in his hoodie pocket and picked up his guitar lazily.

He almost dropped his guitar when he saw his teacher. He was gorgeous. The best part was he looked to be about the same age as Gerard, if not younger. But his tattooed arms assured Gerard he was at least eighteen. He pushed a loose strand of black hair behind his ear smiling at the class and whistling to get their attention.

"Hey guys, I'm Mr. Iero. Or you could call me Frank if you'd like. I'll be your guitar teacher today, and Mr. Bryar will be around in about an hour to teach the drum part of the class." He smiled a perky smile and looked around at everyone's face, pausing on Gerard's and losing his smile for a millisecond before continuing.

He stretched his hands and started to play something Gerard recognized but couldn't place the name of, definitely something by The Misfits, and Gerard swore Frank had to be **in** the band to know that part so well. He played for a solid five minutes before stopping and smiling at the class.

"By the end of this class, you'll have the skills needed to play something as great as that."

He was a cocky bastard wasn't he, with his shit eating grin. But the kids loved him, so he must have been a pretty good teacher. Frank got up and wheeled over a mid-sized chalk board and began to write something that had to be in Greek because his handwriting was just that awful. But Gerard couldn't care less because he was able to get a better look at his tattoos (and maybe Frank's butt) this way.

Frank turned, clapping his hands together and started to explain what was happening on the board. Gerard was well aware of how much he sucked at guitar and at playing instruments in general. The only reason he was here was for Mikey, who had some crazy idea that he would be the next member of the Smashing Pumpkins or something when he grew up. Gerard's mom managed to find this place in an ad in the yellow pages, and here they were. Gerard was only here so he wasn't tempted to sneak over to Ray's and smoke for hours.

An hour and one or two inappropriate fantasies later, the class had ended. Frank was packing up his things and saying his goodbyes to the class as who Gerard could only assume was Mr. Bryar wheeled in a starter drum kit from somewhere Gerard couldn't see. Gerard was pissed that he had to stay here for another hour without someone to look at, so he decided to go outside for a smoke.

In the hour Gerard had been inside, it had started down pouring. Gerard swore under his breath and took cover under a nearby awning, under which someone Gerard didn't recognize in an oversized sweatshirt was talking loudly into a phone. He didn't mind their presence, as long as they didn't talk to him. He was not in the mood for human interaction what so ever, and needed to get home or find the nearest bathroom as soon as possible because he thought he was gonna puke.

Leaning against the brick exterior, he took a long drag from his cigarette, thinking about how he should probably quit smoking but knew he never would. Exhaling, he began to pay attention to the man's phone conversation. Something about his ride home bailing on him and needing to find another one? Gerard deemed the conversation too boring for his tastes, and continued to think of his guitar teacher. At this point the man next to him began swearing loudly into the phone before hanging up angrily and slamming his back against the building. With an exasperated sigh, the man took off his hood and reached for his carton of Camels. Gerard had to double take to realize that this was his guitar teacher. Gerard had to focus on the row of houses in front of the school to avoid staring and looking like a creep. His teacher grunted next to him and sighed before speaking.

"'Scuse me, would you mind if I bummed a cigarette?" He asked calmly.

Gerard took a second to register he was being spoken to. He nodded quickly and fumbled in his pocket for the pack and a lighter before handing it over. The man nodded his thanks and lit up before handing Gerard them back.

"So, what'd you think of the class?" The man asked. Gerard was surprised he remembered his face, with all the other kids in the class. Gerard thought things about the class that were ridiculously inappropriate to tell strangers, so he settled on "Good."

"Really?" The man replied. "Well, I've been told worse. Thanks." He took a short drag.

"So, how long have you been teaching here? The kids really seem to like you." Gerard's mouth was working against him on this one, he didn't have to courage to even look at him, much less speak.

The man smiled to himself. "A few months? I don't remember. But I love it here. The kids are all great. You know most of them don't have music programs in their schools? Their schools let them go here for free to make up for it. Some of the kids are really talented and I wish they were able to have a music class more than once a week for an hour. But what are you gonna do…" he took a longer drag this time. Gerard nodded politely and inhaled.

"So what about you? You look a little old to be coming here from school." The man asked.

"I'm here with my kid brother. My mom signed us up."

"Well you didn't look very enthusiastic in class today." The man chuckled.

Gerard had to think fast. "Uhm, yeah sorry about that. I'm a little out of it today."

"That's fine, so am I." The man said.

"Yeah?" Gerard asked. "Everything alright?"

The man sighed. Gerard guessed not. "I guess so…just angry."

"At?"

"Parents,school, the universe, the usual."

"You're still in school?"

"Yeah. Senior year. You?"

"Same. You live in Belleville?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No, just I've never seen you around before." Gerard would have remembered having a cute punk kid in his grade.

"Oh, that's because I go to St. Marys." Jesus fucking Christ, this kid was hot, had tattoos, played guitar **and** went to a uniform wearing Catholic school? It took all of Gerard's energy to not get a boner in front of him.

"A kid like **you **going to St. Mary's?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you're in school and you have a bunch of tattoos, Catholic school must love you."

The man laughed. "Yeah, they're not exactly in my fan club over there."

Gerard chuckled. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Gerard"

"Frank." He said, extending his hand. Gerard took it politely, inwardly panicking.

Frank then launched into some conversation about bands he liked, which turned out to be a lot of the same ones that Gerard liked. About an hour later the kids began pouring out of the building into the bus. Mikey stopped next to Gerard.

"Gerard, are you coming?"

Gerard looked at Frank, who was definitely friend material, and asked if he needed a ride home. Turns out he did, and Gerard told Mikey he'd be home later. Mikey shrugged and joined the others on the bus.

"Thanks for the ride man. I appreciate it." Frank said as they began to walk to Gerard car.

Gerard smiled. "Anytime. So how did you learn that Misfits song so well anyways?"

"I just kept practicing. To be honest I only played that in class today because it's the only song I know how to play really well." Frank giggled as Gerard and him got into the car.

"Well you sounded like a pro, man. I'd love to hear you play more." Gerard said. He was usually a complete failure when it came to talking to guys. He knew he was blushing, but it wasn't that noticeable if he was able to speak properly, right?

They began driving, radio blaring Bowie when Gerard realized he had no idea where Frank lived. It turned out he lived just down the road from Gerard, in a small white house in a cul-de-sac. Gerard pulled up to his house, getting out of the car to help Frank with his guitar case. Frank thanked him.

"So.." Frank said timidly as they walked to the door. "Are you busy tonight…maybe?"

Gerard was blushing. "No, don't think so. Why?"

Frank looked at the ground. "Well, I was going to have a movie night with my friends but uh-they cancelled on me..maybe you could come over?"

Gerard was just about ready to leap out of his skin. He was so stoked. He nodded, which made Frank look like he was ready to leap from his skin too.

"Great! So is uhm, sevenish alright?"

"Sevenish would be great."

"Great! Okay..so see you later?"

"Definitely." Gerard smiled.

Frank smiled so hard Gerard thought his cheeks would burst. Gerard smiled wider at the sight of it.

"Later then." Frank said with a smile, and with that he walked inside.

"Wait!" Gerard said. Frank quickly turned around.

Gerard grabbed Frank's hand to pull him closer, and without warning kissed him on the cheek, barely missing his mouth. His lips were dry from the winter weather, but his face was warm. Gerard tried to analyze Frank's face to see if he'd just fucked this up or not, but he couldn't see Frank's face because it was too busy returning the kiss. Frank grabbed the back of Gerard's neck, Gerard holding Frank's waist. Frank slowly pulled away, red and grinning ear to ear. After an awkward silence, Frank slid his hands back in his pockets.

"So…we still on for sevenish?"

Gerard just smiled and nodded, walking back to his car slightly dizzy and with the worst case of butterflies in his stomach he'd ever had.


End file.
